


Two Ways to Interact

by raven_aorla



Series: Sheaths and Safeties [7]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Flirting, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Innocent Creepiness, Jerome Valeska Sucks At Flirting, Like when a creepy person isn't trying to be creepy but it happens, Mild Sexual Harrassment, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Pansexual Jerome, Pansexual Zsasz, Sort Of, cutting mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14286183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: Jerome has no plans to destroy Victor Zsasz's delightfully chaotic - and very sexy - crew, so he hits on them instead.[Newcomer-friendly.]





	Two Ways to Interact

**Author's Note:**

> I suggested to irisbleufic that Jerome hit on Ed and Oswald. [Having risen to the challenge,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14190156/chapters/32709399) they prompted me to do this.
> 
> If you're new and curious, not everyone in my Zsasz Family is sleeping with everyone else. It's a set of Venn diagrams explained in other fics, and some have outside partners as well. However, threesomes and four-gies are not uncommon.

_Intro_

As was the way of things, the apprentice eventually finished his contract, proved himself, recruited his replacement, and earned back his name. Nefyn’s graduation was different from the other puppies', though. First, he decided to stay as part of the team, though he also wanted to do some solo work under the name Knifepoint. Teeth had moved out shortly beforehand, so there was space. (Candy in particular would have rioted if Zsasz had kicked out her Best Friend With Benefits Forever.)

Second, his recruit had impressed the household by not only escaping from Indian Hill but taking care of herself for more than two years with the “monster” bounty on her head. She’d lived on the streets with no memory of any life other than Strange and his underlings poking at her. Her powers weren’t flashy, but they’d kept her going, and everyone was looking forward to helping her apply them to the trade.

Strange had taken the girl’s name and she’d given herself her own. It became clear that taking it from her again, even fondly, wouldn’t go over well.

So when Zsasz saw her in the TV room, he used her own nickname to greet her. “Morning, Thistle, you sleep last night?”

“Last night I did all my chores and 300 push-ups.” She flashed him a small smile. Doctor Kali estimated her age somewhere between 17-20. Her race was vague to everyone, dark hair and tan-ish complexion. The little green prickles growing from her skin every few days no matter how much she shaved them back made it even harder to tell. Zsasz wasn’t up on all the deets of what had been done to her, but Doc said milk thistle extract had pharmaceutical qualities and Strange might have gone nuts with it.

“I guess you can slack off a little, then,” he said generously, sitting next to her to catch the 8 o’clock news. He’d just gotten out of the shower after an early-morning run. No need to eat yet. They were going to have a family brunch at 9, since nobody was working this morning for once, and he’d grabbed a protein shake before leaving.

She pointed at the screen. “I’ve seen that guy.”

He turned his attention from her to what was actually being shown. “Oh yeah, that’s Jerome Valeska. Treats Arkham like a rock star treats rehab.”

“I mean _I’ve seen that guy_. Like, I met him before Nefyn found me.” She scratched at her chin. Shaving with a straight razor kept the prickles at bay for a little while, but it itched unless she was consistent with shaving cream and lotion. That’s why she usually only shaved her face and neck, the bare minimum for running errands without causing a fuss.

“What’d he do, try to get you to join his cult?” Zsasz thought of Valeska as more of an annoyance than anything, but the latest addition to his team had been pretty vulnerable back then. Regardless of mysterious kick-assery.

She laughed. “More like join his...him. He wasn’t very good at it.”

“He’s not interested in menacing us if we don’t directly oppose him, says we’re too amusing, but he only seems to know two ways to interact with people,” Zsasz agreed. “So? How was his try on you?”

*********

_Attempt 1_

“What was the cute cactus chick doing knee-deep in a Dumpster?”

The raggedly cute cactus chick in question clutched at her banged-up pizza box like she thought Jerome was going to snatch it and run away. He supposed he looked a bit like the bottom of the barrel right now, just like her. Reversal of fortunes and all that. Between schemes.

He did a pull-up to perch on a fire escape. Not directly above her, even he knew that’d be too much. “It’s not a setup for a joke. I’m honestly wondering.”

She blinked at him and went back to chewing, though she was still warily standing with her back against a brick wall.

“You, uh, you do speak English, right? Otherwise this is just embarrassing, y’know?” Not quite as embarrassing as having to lay low thanks to Harvey Bullock - not even Jim Gordon, his pride could have coped with Jim Gordon - but it’d be a drag.

She swallowed. (Well, maybe, he wouldn’t assume. Heh.) “I don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“That makes two of us, pine tree. Or are you sensitive about that? How about ‘pine nut’? It has a nice ring to it.” He figured she was one of those Indian Hill types, though with Gotham you never knew. You could probably hire mad scientists in bulk.

She took another pizza crust out of the box but didn’t take a bite. “I know I can break a grown man’s arm if he scares me.”

Jerome whistled. “Woo! I like that in a gal.”

“You can’t have my pizza.” She jerked her head towards the Dumpster. “There’s a corner store that throws barely expired stuff in there sometimes.”

“If you’re down and out like this, how do you keep so clean, briar patch?” He lowered his voice a fraction. “Maybe you could show me?”

She blinked some more. “And his legs. A grown man’s legs. Broken. Both.”

That stung slightly. He needed to work on his game. “Fine, I can take a hint. I’m sure there’s other sexy dangerous girls out there who aren’t so _paranoid._ ”

***

_Attempt 2_

“Y’know, the best women are like the best books.”

The black Zsaszette Jerome had seen around, doing very entertaining and deadly things, was just coming out of All the Evil Ladies with a bunch of shopping bags. The folks who ran Merc had decided to open a branch focusing more on henchwomen, especially their clothes. Jerome had been feeling a tad blue and went to low-key loiter in some bushes in the parking lot to cheer himself up a bit. His current plans needed to simmer for a whole week before he could do anything big, and boredom didn’t suit him well.

She didn’t stop walking towards her car. Stone cold badass. “How?”

“They’re full of knowledge, can hold themselves up on a strong spine, are pleasant to look at, and are wrapped in leather.” For example, her ankle-length coat positively gleamed.

She snorted. “Go get a big piece of rawhide and the smartest of your groupies, then.”

***

_Attempt 3_

[“Heyyyyyy, sexy lady…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nLLECY6m_Q)

Zsasz’s Korean-American henchwoman (with stingray skin boots, yowza) didn’t appreciate the joke. Jerome was impressed that she managed to shoot off his newly stolen hat from the other side of the alley. Didn't let go of her South Asian girlfriend's hand, either.

***

_Attempt 4_

Fortunately, Zsasz’s squad wasn’t fighting _against_ Jerome’s squad du jour. That would have been uglier than funny, though it would’ve still been a little bit funny. No, the Court of Owls had staggered back from the grave less gracefully than Jerome had. They were pissing off everybody else.

Jerome turned to the blonde Zsaszette he’d ended up ducking behind some crates with. Gotham had way too many mostly-empty warehouses. It wasn’t his fault that he had to lean in close for her to hear him under all the hubbub. “After this, are you busy? I know a place...”

She stopped firing her long enough to raise an eyebrow at him. “Dude. Timing.”

“I said _after_ this, sweetcakes. Jeez, I’m batting zero with your gang. It’s not about my face’s various _misadventures_ , is it? People are so shallow.” He patted himself down to see if he had any grenades. No, other jacket. Damn.

“If you’re worried about that - you _worried_ , hah, I know - _Gaytham Gothdar_ magazine has some makeup tips for softening harsh angles.” She took another potshot and pumped her fist when it tore through a Talon’s head. “I’m already fucking one stabby familicidal former juvenile delinquent with mommy issues. And he’s got considerably better manners. Thanks.”

***

_Attempt 5_

“I was gonna torture this guy sweet and slow, y’know, like a real good barbecue sauce. Drawn out, low simmer. I cleared my whole night and a bunch of the following morning. It was gonna be a _treat_. Then this...” Jerome held up a throwing knife small enough to fit in his palm.

The man chained to a metal chair made a “hm” noise to show he was paying attention. Good manners.

Jerome lightly poked his neck with the edge of the blade. “...Hits him in the _throat_ and he dies in _seconds_. My men couldn’t catch whoever did it. Didn’t see him. So I cast my feeeeelerrrrs out, because that’s a ridiculously good hit with a throwing knife. Who even uses a throwing knife and not a gun for a shot like that? I mean, probably helped with the getaway when there wasn’t a bang to tell us where it came from, but _ain’t nobody got time for that._ To train how to do something like that. Except the grapevine says oh no, there is a guy who can do that. Tricky knife moves with instant kills are his gimmick.”

“The hired killer talent pool is crowded in this town, and it helps to have a specialty,” Knifepoint said, shrugging as best he could. He came quietly (well maybe, Jerome shouldn’t assume, heh) when ambushed at multiple gunpoints. He hadn’t been roughed up beyond being searched, which turned up twelve knives of various sizes and one fully loaded pistol. (HEEheehee.)

Jerome tossed the knife over his shoulder and bent down to undo the black and navy skull-print bandana tied over the lower half of Knifepoint’s face. His outfit was mostly black, but he switched it up with a few blue accents here and there. Knifepoint tried to lean away, so Jerome wrapped some fingers in his brown hair to hold him in place.

Disappointingly, it wasn’t anyone he recognized. He hadn’t genuinely expected, like, Brucie or something, but that would have been a fun surprise. This guy was seriously pretty, though, and around Jerome's age. Maybe slightly younger. Kudos to the informant for being honest about that, despite being confused about why Jerome was asking. Didn’t people know by now not to put Jerome in a box?

He did, however, have a different _style_ with boys, not counting purely pragmatic Arkham bargains. More...complicated.

(The Wayne boy was reportedly studying abroad. Jerome would vivisect anyone who suggested he _missed_ that infuriating rich brat who could pick handcuffs with a staple and look into an undead jester’s abyss without blinking.)

“I’m impressed you’re not trying to deny it, Knifey,” Jerome said, patting the side of his face.

Knifepoint's bright green eyes gazed up at the ceiling. Jerome checked real quick to make sure there wasn’t a buddy of his up there. Nope, just a chagrined gesture. “You’ve obviously made up your mind.”

Jerome settled onto his lap and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Wanna work for me instead? I’m having serious staffing issues. They keep croaking. Or disappointing me, which in the long run is the same thing.”

“Is that the alternative to ‘sweet and slow’ torture?” Knifepoint was still calm, but now it sounded a teensy bit rehearsed.

“Is that a knife my minions didn’t manage to get off you, or are you pleased to have me sitting here?” A lock of hair had slipped out from Knifepoint’s electric blue elastic. Jerome fixed it.

Before Knifepoint made any response to that, the door banged open. Bad manners.

Victor Zsasz was there with two massive guns (heh) pointed right at Jerome. He said quietly, “Knifepoint, apologize to the Joker for taking on a side project to spoil his fun without discussing potential fallout with me first. Joker, stop bad-touching my Zsaszeur and give him back.”

“Zsaszeur, huh? What a world.” Jerome sorta regretted sending his minions away in order to have private time with his guest, but on the other hand, it probably would have just resulted in even more dead minions after a high-casualty month as it was. Though maybe those minions were dead now, too, depending on whether they’d tried to stop Zsasz on his way in. Ugh.

“You can keep whatever weapons you removed from him as reparations, and so he’ll learn his lesson,” Zsasz added.

Knifepoint’s eyes widened. “But Vic -”

“Are you going to argue with me, kitten?”

Jerome only snickered a little at the kitten part.

Knifepoint bit his lip and nodded. “It’s fair. Yeah.”

“Sorry, didn’t know he was yours. Wasn’t gonna go _all_ the way on a first date. I’ve got more class than that.” Jerome didn’t get up right away, though. He elbowed Knifepoint in the ribs.

Knifepoint dutifully said, “I’m sorry I took on a side project that spoiled your fun without discussing potential fallout with Victor first.”

Jerome got to his feet. “Who hired you, by the way? Was it to keep him from talking, or plain ol’ mercy? And how mad is Daddy with you? On a scale from hugging to spanking?”

Zsasz cleared his throat, not cracking a smile. Jerome was going to fetch that informant and do everything to him that he’d planned for Knifepoint’s kill.

***

_Turnabout_

“How do you have such hot and reliable henchpeeps?” Jerome asked as he settled in next to Zsasz’s theoretically hidden stakeout vantage point.

Zsasz didn’t put down the binoculars in his left hand. “It helps to learn their names and care about their safety. Well, the hot ones.”

“Mm, interesting. Let me write that on my hand. You got a pen?”

“The only thing I’ve got on me that I write with sometimes is a boxcutter. Gimme a sec.” Zsasz fired with the gun in his right hand. It was too dark and far for Jerome to see, but he heard the scream and thump after the bang. Zsasz tucked everything away, then suddenly twisted and pinned Jerome to the ground.

“Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink first?” Jerome rasped, chuckling.

“You haven’t been buying any drinks for my crew,” Zsasz replied with a smirk.

Jerome pouted at the unfairness of it. “They don’t want to play.”

“Oh, they do, but not with a rookie.” Then Zsasz kissed him. Thoroughly. Jerome kissed back, because just lying there and taking it would have been a sad waste of an opportunity.

Before Jerome could make the witty remark on the tip of his tongue, Zsasz knocked him out. He woke up with Zsasz gone, a blinding headache, and 7/ _10 KISS - LEAVE THEM BE_ in shallow pink scratches on his left forearm.

Only 7/10? _Rude._

**Author's Note:**

> This 'verse's Zsasz wants everyone to know he's possessive of his household, but doesn't want anyone to realize how much he loves them - both the ones he has sex with (currently Yoona, Leonara, and Nefyn) and the ones he doesn't (Thistle, Candy, and Kali, along with others not appearing here). It's a fine balance.
> 
> Candy was secretly pleased that Jerome was treating her like a cis girl, incidentally. Not enough to take him up on it but enough to be relatively civil in turning him down.


End file.
